The Artist and The Captain
by FireflyLahey
Summary: Where Isaac is an artist who moved to Beacon Hills from Canada and Scott is the captain of the lacrosse team who becomes the subject of all of Isaac's painting. The love story of two unlikely candidates and their budding friendship becoming a blooming romance. Just a bit of shameless smut in later chapters.
1. 1: How it starts

With his head propped up on his hand and his sketchbook propped up on his bag, Isaac Lahey stretches out on the bleachers next to the green grass of the lacrosse field; he moves the graphite pencil in quick strokes over the white page to try and capture the movement of the bodies running across the field. His favourite person to draw is the ever-moving, spastic, animated, Stillinski, number 24,clad in his red and white lacrosse jersey and black helmet. The boy seems to have limbs that go on forever and seem to have a mind of their own, it makes Isaac smile and wonder what he's like as a person. He's never seen the faces of the ones he draws, 37 (Jackson), 8 (Danny), and 11 (Scott), because they are always obscured by the masks. He's never even bothered to learn their first names.

Isaac has lived here, in Beacon Hills, for about a month now after having flown down from Canada. His dad was given some business opportunity that he doesn't give a rats ass about and was dragged here against his will. It's always hot, always sunny, and everyone is far to cheery. It's only when he's alone with his sketch book, lounging about in the shade as just an observer, does he feel somewhat like this could become his home. He will admit, the art class is amazing here and he's in love with philosophy as well. Somewhere in the distance, probably not he just has a habit of mentally muffling sounds, a bell rings and like any well conditioned student the boy is up on his feet without even thinking about it. He slings the bag over his shoulder, the strap laying across his chest, and puts his book away and tucks the pencil into the spot between his ear and his head so it pokes out next to his eye.

Black and white, converses dip in and out of his vision as he hops down the steps of the bleachers and saunters out onto the loose gravel pathway that leads around the field and back towards the school. No one notices him and he notices no one while he walks, enjoying the background chatter of his peers and the cool breeze rustling through his loose sweater. Since it's just after lunch the hallway is cluttered with people, so much so that Isaac's claustrophobia is having a damn song and dance inside of him, kicking up his heart rate and making it that much harder to breath. He can't help but feel lucky that he's taller than just about everyone, enough so that he can see above their heads and control his phobia. The only thing stopping him from just squaring his shoulders and knocking down everyone in his path at the speed of a bulldozer on light speed is the fact that he has art next and that's something worth relaxing over.

"Now, what I want from you today is to paint this vase with these beautiful lillies poking out from it. The catch is: I don't want you to paint what you see, don't paint me the vase with the flowers just like that I can see that for myself. Paint what you feel, feel how the vase holds the flowers that sprout from it." Mr. Melville says, walking around the perimeter, behind the children positioned at their easel in a circle around the display in the centre of the classroom. Isaac frowns, he's never been much good at expressing his feeling even in art; everything for him has always been so structured and bottled up when it comes to his art. Even his life. This makes it hard for him, how does one even paint how they feel? You paint what you see...can you _see_ feelings? The boy shakes his head and just gets to work. First comes the under sketch, so at least he can get the general structure of the picture at hand; then he tries to work in some flow and emotion by using paints of all different colours. He deviates from the just blue of the vase and the just white of the lillies by dabbing in other colours if the opposite nature but it doesn't look...right.

"Melville..." He calls, looking up for the teacher and the man makes his way over to the boy. Melville makes a face, inspecting his work and Isaac starts hating it even more.

"You have such talent Isaac, but your ability to transfer your emotion into your art is lacking. Try painting the flow of what you see; where your eyes start first and how they move about the set up." Mr. Melville suggests, so Isaac nods and tries it out but it still doesn't look right. A frustrated frown deforms his face, making him look more like he is in despair than like he is frustrated. People always told him that he has a very expressive mouth.

He walks home angry, hoping his father isn't feeling the same way.

All Scott wants to do is go home and lay in his bed. His muscles ache from coach's insanity workout during lacrosse today and he's swamped with homework from chemistry; Mr. Harris isn't giving him a break at all. The lacrosse captain groans at the thought and rolls over to pull his books out of his bag, it's all he can do not to give up all at once. In an act of passive rebellion he writes down each answer in point form, which so happens to be the exact opposite way of the way his English teacher likes to have her homework written out like. _"No full sentences for you Ms.G._" Scott triumphantly says to himself while completing his homework.

A knock on the door brings him away from his revolution and to the front hall. He opens the door to find a tall, well built-in-a-lanky-way, boy with honey coloured curls, tired blue eyes and a pink expressive mouth. Scott feels like he can see the hint of a bruise along the stranger's jaw but the red and gold stripped scarf he's wearing is obscuring the view. It's got the emblem of a lion on it; it says gryffindor.

"Sorry to bother you but I think you may have..gotten my mail." The boy says, in a voice like the low hum of cicadas in summer. Scott doesn't like the way his eyes won't lift up from the ground.

"Let me check." The captain ruffles his hair and goes to the kitchen counter, motioning for the other boy to come in but he quietly declines.

_ "Bills, bills, bills, coupons for mcdonalds- keeping those- bills...Lahey..s'definitely him." _"Yea here, sorry man." Scott says as he comes back to the door and hands the boy his mail. Lahey's hands reach out with half curled fingers, long and pale, to take the envelopes away from Scott's darker, stubbier, ones. He almost feels self conscious about them. The Lahey boy politely thanks him and quickly retreats back to the house next door with long strides and Scott almost doesn't realize he's been staring after him long after he's gone inside. Something in Scott's gut just wants to bring him in and take care of him.

"I need sleep." He finishes his homework without a hitch and takes a long hot shower before crawling in to bed, hoping his mom has a good night at work.


	2. 2: How it goes

He strokes the edges of his canvas, mourning the loss of a painting he worked so hard on. A black and white painting of an anatomically correct skeleton, with coloured cobwebs and bright flowers with vines and leaves coiling themselves around the bones. It would be amazing if it weren't for the gaping hole, in the corner of it, where his father put his fist through it. A whole month of work, hundred of sketches before actually even starting it. Isaac could cry. _Could_.

Isaac runs a stress filled hand over his face before getting up and tossing it to the other side of his room in frustration before getting up and getting ready to go to school. It doesn't take to long, he wants to get out before his dad gets up, just a quick shower and quickly yanks on blue jeans and a green t-shirt. He races to get out the door, just as he hears his father's bed creek signalling the demon is awake.

As he closes the door behind him and hops down the concrete steps, he sees him. The boy from yesterday, _"I can't remember his name..."_ Isaac thinks to himself, watching him walk down to the sidewalk. The artist likes his crooked jaw. Isaac shakes his head and starts walking, he keeps ahead of the boy because he doesn't want to talk to anyone. He's not in the mood. The boy walks fast, letting his feet kick up dust and shouldering his bag into a better position. _"You're macaroni is to watery, you're getting a C in English, I move you all the way out here for a better life and this is how you repay me-..." _Isaac replays the words of the night in his head "_- what would your mother say? You keep messing around with your fucking art! You call this art? It's garbage!"_ He closes his eyes and counts to ten, trying to calm himself down. It was garbage anyway, everything Isaac does is garbage.

"Hey!" Whats-his-name says, running up to Isaac's side. He's shorter than Isaac and radiates a warmth that Isaac had spent his life shying away from.

"Hi." Isaac keeps his eyes trained ahead, hoping that one syllable answers would make him go away. The artist doesn't like the fact that he likes how his brown eyes are bright and clear; like today is actually a day worth getting up for.

"You're Lahey right?" The kid says, in a way that makes Isaac almost feel like he could possibly be important.

"Yea." He replies, hunching his shoulders and shoving his hands deeper in his pocket. The boy doesn't get the hint. _"He's as dense as they come isn't he..."_ Isaac mentally sighs. "I'm Scott McCall. What's your first name?"

"Isaac."

"Heard you came all the way down from Canada."

"Yep."

"That's awesome dude! Is it really cold up there."

"Yep."

"Did you like the cold? Must be weird to live somewhere it's hot all time now."

"Yep." For a while he's silent, and Isaac thinks he's given up and will leave. They're almost at the school.

"Wanna have lunch today?" Scott asks, nonchalantly, but it hits Isaac like a tone of bricks. He's had like three people, in his life, ask him if he wants to have lunch and two of them didn't even show up when he said yes. The other ran out on him pretty quickly too when he got to talking about art. He isn't even sure if he should answer but Scott looks so expectantly at him and something about him demands an answer from the artist.

They're walking up the concrete step, in time with each other, and past the double doors. People greet Scott with a smile but Isaac remains nothing but a shadow; even though he's a good head taller than Scott he's nothing but a bug in the expanse of fucking sunshine that radiates off the goddamn idiot. Isaac rolls his eyes. "So you wanna?" Scott prods, leaning against Isaac's locker like a damn puppy waiting for his owner to pet his head.

"Sure." Isaac finally relents and Scott beams.

"I'll meet you at your locker then." And practically skips off to go talk to his friends, leaving Isaac feeling like a hole in the universe. Isaac's first two classes are spent wondering wether or not he should even show up to this lunch thing, he wonders what kinds of people he'll meet and if he'll even make a good impression. Will Scott even show up? _"Probably not."_ He drags himself through math class, hiding his bruises with tugs of his sleeves and hunched over seating; praying that he can make it through this day with no questions.

Physics goes by even slower, mainly consisting of Isaac staring out the window and painting the sky with his mind. "Uhm, excuse me?" A girl with black hair and a square jaw asks. She looks strong, like she was born to fight.

"Yes?" Isaac replies, slowly, not wanting to talk to her anymore than he has too.

"Do you have a pencil I could borrow?" And he holds out a pencil, without looking at her, in response. She mumbles a thank you as she takes it and slinks back in to her seat.

"I saw you talking to Scott..." _"Oh god, are they all this chatty?"_ "Are you coming to lunch with us?"

"Who're you?" Isaac asks instead of answering, he doesn't bother looking at her either. "Allison, Allison Argent."

Isaac nods.

"What's your name? Your new here yes?"

"Isaac. Yes."

Allison makes a face and leans back. Isaac is glad she's given up on a conversation with him and he can berate and hate himself in peace. The class continues, that alone makes Isaac want to fling himself out the window, but it's really the fact that he still hasn't decided what he's going to do about the lunch thing. _"It's not like I have any art to work on and philosophy can wait..."_ He bargains with himself _"I guess it wouldn't...be so...bad..." _Isaac heads to his locker and prays this isn't a trick.

Scott smiles and waves at his tall neighbour before heading back to his group of friends. "Hey man, the new kid though." Stiles comments, spinning his hat around on his head so the beak faces the back. Like always, Scott can sense the on coming barrage of words, and Stiles doesn't disappoint.

"How is he? Did you ask him about Canada? Why is he always alone? Sometimes it's like he's in a whole different world and just stomping through life all angry-like. Have you seen him walking through the halls? And man can he just black swan people. The kid is slender man I swear!" Stiles rattles on, using his whole body to emphasize his point it seems. Scott rolls his eyes and listens because _"yea I have noticed that."_ He thinks to himself.

"..Ya know?" Scott realizes he's been asked a question as they walk in to chemistry class but he doesn't know what he was asked.

"What?"

"He. Should. Come. To. Lunch. With. Us. Since. He's. Always. Alone. Ya. Know." Stiles says, dripping with attitude.

"Oh yea, yea I asked him. He took forever to say yes. I think he's shy."

"Or he hates you."

"We only just met." Scott protests as they take heir seats, Stiles at the desk right behind him.

"That's enough time to form an opinion."

"Nah, he's shy."

Isaac rounds the corner, expecting to see no one at all but there he is. Scott leans with his back against the locker beside Isaac's blue one and a group of people around him. There's that smile and it makes the artist feel weird so he turns his attention else where as he walks up: A red head wearing to much makeup and a floral dress with scary ass shoes on, the Allison chick from physics, Danny from philosophy class and, _"of course"_, the kid with the impossible limbs- Stiles. They're talking about the upcoming game, Isaac pays no mind as sports isn't his thing, and he wordlessly walks up to open his locker.

The group just shifts their arrangement to accommodate him and that makes him even make wary of any goings-on. "What do you think, new kid?" The red head asks, earning a look of discontent from Isaac."His name is Isaac Lahey," Scott says, turning back to this with that sunshine smile on his face and adds: "hurry up. I'm buying you lunch."

The captain drags him, by an unseen tether, towards a cafe called TLC and the group follows behind like a flock of chirping budgies. A booth near the big front window calls them and is soon occupied by all six and Isaac is painfully aware of how small the space is. "I'm Lydia, obviously." The red head, pressed up against his side, says and he gives her a small smile and a curt nod.

"I'm Stiles!"

"You know me." Danny says, eyeing some waiter off to the side.

"And we met in physics." Allison chimes in as if Isaac could have forgotten between the 40 min gap between when she spoke to him and now. He nods at them because Scott already introduced him so what else can he say.

Blue eyes meet brown ones, directly in front of him, and Scott's face breaks out in to a smile. "What would you like?" He asks and Isaac is finding himself pleased by the way the light hits his face. He quickly shakes his head to come back to reality, his hand itching to draw.

"Uh, it's okay I have money."

"Nah, come on. I pay for stiles like everyday, it'll be nice to pay for someone else." Scott insists and Isaac notices the looks going around. He knows he won't win this, Scott looks like he definitely won't take no for an answer. The artist sighs deeply.

"A chocolate chip muffin, heated with butter." He says and without even thinking he's got his sketch book out and flips to a clean page.

The others are to busy talking about some school dance and he's thankful for that. Everyone places their orders and Scott asks for both Isaac's and his while Isaac maps out the way the captains lips curves up when he looks at his friends. He skips the under sketch all together and does a quick sketch of the boy in front of him; Isaac uses lighter strokes to hint towards light and darker ones to shade in the shadows. The crookedness of Scott's jaw Isaac holds a particular fondness for and he draws that out. Using his finger he blends a bit and continues his drawing.

"Oh wow-" Lydia's voice jolts him out of his zone and Isaac drops his pencil only to look up at her with a taken aback look

"that's amazing!" She compliments "and I don't throw compliments like that around." She takes the book away from him, much to the artists horror and starts passing it around to the group.

"L-l-Lydia...c-can you-...please d-don't-...I n-need that-.." He stammers desperately, reaching for it but they take his precious sketch book far out of his reach. It's Scott who intervenes.

"Hey, guys, don't be like that." He complains, taking the sketch book and swiftly handing it back to Isaac, who cradles it close to his chest like it's his baby.

"Awe, but he drew such a great picture of you!" "Yea bro it was awesome." "I wanna see more"

"N-no!" Isaac barks, wanting to just rush out of there but he's trapped. The group falls silent due to his curt outburst and things get a little awkward and tense. Even Stiles is quiet. Isaac focuses his gaze out the window and hates himself, he just wants to go home now because he'll be alone there while his dad is at work.

The waitress brings their orders and the conversation soon picks up around him but Isaac doesn't chime in. _"Don't say anything, you'll say something wrong. You'll fuck up again."_ He thinks to himself as he picks at the warm, buttery, muffin. It takes a while but he feels someone staring at him and looks up at the captain's face, Isaac likes the mocha colour of his skin and the stupid way the front of his bangs is spiked up. He looks stupid. "Is that good?"

"Yea."

"Can I try a bit?"

"Yea."

They stare at each other for sometime, each waiting for the other to make a move, before Isaac realizes he needs to do it. He cuts a bit of the muffin top off and scootches it into Scott's plate with his knife. It's like the rest of the world sort of floats away because Scott is the type of person who gives you all their attention. Isaac doesn't like it but he watches the kid eat the muffin anyway.

"Mhmm, this is so good!" He comments and the artist actually feels validated; Isaac smiles at him.

"It's my mother's favourite lunch meal." He says "In Canada I used to go to Timmies everyday for this."

"Tommies?"

"No, timmies. Tim Hirtons, it's like...a cheaper star bucks. They're all over Canada." Isaac says, amused, while Scott has this look on his face like he's just been told the secret to all of Canada.

"Wanna hang out this weekend? Tell me all about Canada?" Scott asks but Isaac softly declines. How can he go out? He's got his father to take care of and work as well as an art project he hasn't even started on.

"Awe that's to bad, maybe next time? You'll let me know?"

"O-of course."


	3. 3: Spice things up

Two months go by and what Isaac has learnt is that Scott is a literal puppy. Every morning he's walking by Isaac's side on their way to school and waits for him at his locker; everyday is much like the last with the artist sitting quietly in the booth, near the window, drawing and the rest of the group talk about their day and plans then Scott and he exchange a few words. Isaac likes it, though, he actually wants to get up for school now and sometimes he even smiles. "

Can I look at one now?" Scott asks gently, every time he takes a break from practise he runs up to the bleachers and asks if he can see what Isaac is drawing.

"I'm not done."

"Who is it this time?"

"Jackson."

"Draw me."

"No."

Scott smiles and Isaac can't help but reciprocate; he watches fondly as the captain jogs back onto the field. He likes the way Scott takes time for him. Isaac turns back to his book, it's not until lacrosse practice is over that he realizes he did, in fact, start drawing Scott. He sits up and puts the sketch book away, waving to Scott a bit.

"You leaving early again?" Scott yells from the field.

"Yea."

"Will you text me this time?"

"No." He says, hopping down the steps and sauntering away on that loose gravel path; he pulls out his phone and sends a text to Scott.

** Isaac: yes.**

**Scott: :D**

Isaac chuckles and pockets his phone, sobering himself up. He's supposed to pick his dad up from the hospital again, _"for a man with lung cancer he sure has a lot of strength to hit me with."_ Isaac muses bitterly as he gets in to the car and drives to the hospital. He takes the long way, through the tall green trees and past the reserve.

The artist could paint this, he wants to paint this; the way the sun illuminates the leaves and thin streams of light dot the ground. It's a whole other world here, where the only sound is the hum of his car and the chorus of unseen birds. Not to mention the charred rubble of a once-was house nestled in amongst the trees. It's the perfect picture, something so ugly made beautiful by it's surroundings and it reminds Isaac of himself.

The hospital smells like antiseptic and hand sanitizer, he can hear coughing and see tired, sick people sitting in the waiting room as he walks right on by and to the front desk. _"McCall..."_ Is the first thing he sees on the nurses name tug, attached to navy blue scrubs _"Scott's mom."_

"How may I help you?" She asks, looking at Isaac with a worried expression on her face. It feels good, to have someone worry about him.

"Uh, I'm here for my father...?"

"What's his name, sweetie?"

"L-Lahey, Rick Lahey."

"Ah yes, he's in room 207." She says and smiles, like Scott, at him.

Isaac thanks her and heads down the white tiled hallway to the pale blue doored room. Ten deep breaths later, he's pushing open blue barrier to reveal his dad tethered to the doctor by the stethoscope pressed against his chest and linked to the doctor by the ear pieces. Neither of them looked up but Isaac could see his Dad isn't getting any better and it makes his heart ache.

"H-hey Dad." He says softly, taking a seat beside a man who looks far to tired to be the one who has the scariest bouts of anger Isaac has ever witnessed; brown hair starting to thin, face and body starting to hollow and become more skin and bone than anything else. Rick looks up at his son and right there, in the blue of his eyes, is the man that once was Isaac's father. They sit together as the Doctor gives them the news, the news that Rick isn't going to get better if he keeps drinking and smoking but Isaac is sure his dad doesn't even want to keep living. Rick wants this; he wants to die._ "Is being around me really that bad?"_ He thinks as he sits on the plastic, feeling, examination bed _"My whole family has left me in one way and another and now my dad is literally trying to kill himself?"_ Isaac makes sure to keep his distance from his father while still remaining close enough to provide some sort of comfort but his father doesn't acknowledge him again.

They drive home in silence and Isaac goes to bed without doing his homework; at least his dad didn't hit him tonight.

Isaac is so tall that Scott has to tilt his head back just to see his face but, no matter what, he always seems so small to the captain. Everyday Scott walks with him and waits for him by his locker and he watches Isaac draw and admires how happy it makes him look. Sometimes Scott notices bruises and cuts on his face and on his hands, like he's been punching walls or something, but he never knows what to say so he just tries his best to make him smile. Scott doesn't know when, or how, Isaac became such a high priority in his life but this guy isn't complaining.

He feels his phone buzz over and over again but he continues to ignore it because Stiles has probably started a new tv show and is probably giving him a whole commentary on it. Scott continues his work on his seminar on the wonderful world of the Krebs cycle; the buzzing starts to get so annoying that he finally relents and takes it out, expecting a barrage of texts from Stiles.

**Isaac: Pineapple **

**Isaac:Pineapple **

**Isaac: Pineapple x100 **

**Isaac: Jesus Christ! You're always bugging me to text you but when I do you don't answer! **

**Isaac: I hate you. **

Scott fumbles with the phone as he tries to call Isaac as quickly as possible. _"Pineapple is such a stupid code word for emergency. Who even came up with that?" _"Finally!" Isaac shouts into the phone, he sounds angry and...drunk. _"Oh yea...I came up with it."_

"What's wrong?"

"M' to drunk t'drive."

"And where are you exactly?" Scott sits up, concerned because Isaac is never like this. Not that he's seen.

"Uh...th'alley 'tween TLC and John's pizza."

"I'm on my way." Scott here's the clatter of the phone hitting the ground and Isaac cursing before the line goes dead.

He's up and at the door in a heartbeat, praying that his friend is okay. The drive is a short one, what with Scott speeding, but when he reaches his destination someone is missing. The captain climbs out of his car and heads for the alley but like he noticed at first no one is there. It's empty aside from the bottles littering the ground.

"Isaac?!" Scott calls, walking around the building slowly before picking up pace to something more urgent.

"Isaac!" He calls louder, desperate now because he can't hear him. Scott retrieves his phone but before he can do anything he's tackled, to the ground by someone huge, into a bush. He fights the body above him, struggling until the body pins him down and he's eye to eye with drunken baby blues'.

"Isaac.."

"Shh, s'right there. Looking for me." He hisses, hiding Scott's body with his own. He has no idea what Isaac is talking about but he's uncomfortably close and it's making him nervous.

"What are you-"

"I said shut up!" Isaac barks and covers Scott's mouth with his hand.

A few people pass the alcohol soaked teen atop the shocked lacrosse captain without even knowing they are there. Just when Scott thinks Isaac has passed out on him the teen stirs and sits up, swaying slightly as he looks out of the bushes like a meerkat searching for a predator. It was weird, watching Isaac stumble to his feet and then try to help Scott up but it ended up more as Scott trying to get up and _hold_ Isaac up as well. "What the hell was that?!"

"Take me home."

"Answer me."

"No." Scott lets out a frustrated growl but decides not to push it. What he's learnt in the short time he's known Isaac is that when he wants to talk he'll talk. It's given him a deeper understanding of the phrase "you can bring a horse to water but can't make it drink."

They hobble back to the van, together, and he wrestles Isaac into the back seats so he can lay down. He looks a mess; curls all disheveled and sticking up this way and that, grey shirt all rumpled, jeans covered in what looks like spilt beer, face all flushed and, Scott notices, a split lip. Isaac groans and Scott realizes he's just been staring at him.

They drive home in silence, but Scott doesn't take Isaac home. He takes him to the McCall house and tucks him in. They'll talk in the morning.


	4. 4: Just give it time

Isaac opens his eyes in an unfamiliar room that is vibrating with an unfamiliar scent and warmth that just seeps up through the floor boards. Warm, beige walls and dark stained hardwood floors, a white ceiling and a wide window that lets in an absurd amount of sunlight, surrounds him. He looks around, head feeling like it's on the verge of exploding and tries to figure out how he managed to get here at all.

The door creeks, a sound that tears his skull open, on it's hinges and that oh-so-hopeful face of Scott pokes past it. He doesn't say anything, neither does Isaac, but there's worry written all over his face. It takes a moment for everything to rush back to him and despite the nausea, and headache, Isaac bolts up right and rushes to the door. Scott is there, with a hand against his shoulder, to stop him.

"My Dad is going to kill me, let me go!" Isaac growls, tempted to push Scott to the side because his heart is pounding with fear; not for himself but because what if his dad got sick or something and he wasn't -isn't- there to help him? Scott shakes his head, kind eyes locking with Isaac's fearful ones, and it makes him angry. _"Who is this bloody, random, kid stepping in? Who does he think he is?!" _His brain yells at him but part of him is kind of...endeared.

"You need to sit down, you look horrible." Scott tells him, guiding him back to the bed. It's not like Isaac puts up much of a fight, he's not in amy shape for that, and he plops down on the bed and drops his head in his hands.

"What the hell was that?" Scott asks and he doesn't have to specify, obviously.

"I just...I had a bad day."

"Talk to me."

Isaac remains silent for a while, debating. _"If you keep it all in, you'll explode-...don't tell him, he doesn't care-...he's your only friend-...make new ones-...he's the only one who tried-..."_ It even longer before he comes to a decision but Scott patiently waits.

"My dad is sick."

"We'll get him medicine-"

"It's worse than just a cold."

"Oh..." "It's lung cancer...and- Scott what am I supposed to do? My mom died, Cam ran off- now my father? As if things where bad enough."

"We'll figure this out." Scott tells him, steadfast and determined, and he presses his forehead against Isaac's shoulder. It's comforting, to say the least, and makes butterflies flutter inside of him; Isaac chalks that up to a new experience. They stay that way for a long time, neither wanting to move for fear of upsetting the other, but eventually Isaac gets up and ruffles Scott's hair.

"I have to go." He says to an almost mournful looking Scott and heads to the door. He's glad Scott doesn't get up to walk him to the door, he's glad he can do it alone. Isaac is afraid of Scott seeing him cry.

The walk home is a long one, because Isaac knows what is waiting behind that door. A pause at the door, a baited silence and two steps inside as the door closes behind him is the most stressful moment of his week. It's quiet, to quiet, and his house is nothing like the warm home he was just in. It had similar decor, similar cabinets and fixtures but the feel was cold and ominous; like bad things lay behind the walls. As he passes the wall, leading to the opening that exposes the kitchen, he sees his father casually sipping bourbon on the rocks from a glass while seated at a cheap dining room table from ikea. Rick looks up and locks eyes with his son, the calm before the storm.

Scott heard, and felt, the _thud_ when something -or god forbid, someone- hit the wall that connects his living room to the house next door. It made him jump but he brushed it off as nothing more than just an accident but something in the back of his mind lingers and festers with worry. It's something small but it's there. An uncomfortable feeling settles in his, now too silent, home and he gets up and heads out.

He has to get the mail anyway.

Isaac has got him thinking about living in a world without family. He wouldn't be able to survive without his mum in his life and life with just one parent is hard enough. Scott notices his neighbour's car, Isaac's car, speeding off and he has a right mind to go check up on his friend because he knows it's not Isaac behind the wheel.

Right up ahead, lit up by only whatever sunlight can force it's way through the thick, almost black, clouds, is the grey set of mailboxes; about 9 mail boxes all set up together in groups and there's another 9 beside those ones.

Scott pushes the key into the lock and twists it and the door pops open to reveal the mail inside: a stack of bills and coupons and whatever else could possibly inside there. He grabs the stack without thinking about it and walks back to his house, stopping only to say hello to the stray, golden, shitzu names Mocha that hobbles around this subdivision. Vaguely he wonders when his mail started becoming so much but he normally just piles it up on the counter in groups of bills and others. As always he tosses the mail into their designated piles without reading them and goes to his room to get ready for work today. He takes a long shower and pulls on his scrubs and leaves a text for Isaac that he knows will not get answered; he grabs the keys to his car and climbs in, debating wether or not he should at least knock on his door, but he doesn't. Scott pulls out of the driveway and justifies his action with a thoughtless "It wasn't him just something...something hit the wall not him."

He doesn't have that much fun at the vet clinic today but it's better than waiting around.


	5. 5: First kiss

"Scott! Who's mail is this?" His mother's voice rings out and Scott hops down the stairs to see her standing at the foot of the incline with her hand on her hip while the other holds a stack of envelopes.

"What?"

"All these say Lahey on it."

Scott cocks his to the side to process the words and a flutter of excitement hits his heart, hard. It's an excuse to see Isaac, to check up on him since the last time he saw the boy which was two days ago now. It bothers him, how Isaac would just drop off the face of the earth for a few days every now and then. Not that he needs to know where Scott is every moment of ever day...but he'd like to.

He, wordlessly, grabs the stack and heads out the door without even pulling on his shoes. Barefoot and in nothing but a white tank top and black track pants, he rushes over to his neighbours house and psychs himself up for knocking on the door. _"Why are you so nervous? You're just giving your friend- who you haven't seen in two days after a very concerning episode- his mail! That's not weird dude, it's not. Come on. Knock on the door.-"_ he raises his fist _"-knock-"_ he rears his hand back and let's it go foreword but stops just before it makes contact with the wood _"-knock! Knock! Knock!"_

Scott steps back and decides maybe he should take a walk around the block first. He fiddles with the papers and the crinkly clear bits that each envelope has, except one and Scott has read that it's from at art school and now he's all excited for his friend. He didn't know Isaac was this passionate about art, whenever Scott -or anyone- asks about it he always shuts down, like it's to personal to speak of but he has noticed how different Isaac looks when he is drawing or painting or whatever.

The next moment he looks up and he's back at the end of Isaac's driveway and the sun is hitting the front door in a way that looks like all the angels in heaven are begging this dense, idiot, to just go up and knock on the door. He looks up, waiting for a sign that contradicts this, but all he sees is a bright blue sky and a full yellow sun and a bird. Just one. With a new found confidence he walks back up the porch and blocks the light, from the door, with his own body.

Scott reaches up and knocks on the door.

A nock on the door brings him away from easel and the stupid array of dumb fruits sitting on the coffee table; it takes him away from the angry and hurt thoughts racing around I'm his head and the ache in his bruised back; it takes him to the front door where Scott stands all bright eyed and hopeful. He's holding a handful of envelopes but all Isaac can think is how perfect the lighting is and Scott looks and it's a painter's dream right here in his doorway.

"I...have your mail."

"Looks like you have a months worth..."

"Yea..."

The silence draws out, both of them in their own world and it doesn't help that Isaac's indie play list is throwing some white teeth teens are out song around them, encouraging the moment to become more and more romanticized.

"Can I paint you?" Isaac hears himself ask and he's not even aware of his mouth moving. Scott doesn't react for a second but the smile that reveals the supernova that _is_ Scott McCall is proudly on show and Isaac takes that as a yes. He motions for Scott to follow him and leads him to where his stuff is, Isaac sets up a little comfortable spot on the windowsill seat for Scott to sit in a tells him just to do what's comfortable.

Isaac takes his time dragging the paint brush over the canvas, every so often his eyes flick up to Scott siting awkwardly on the windowsill.

"Relax." The painter instructs softly only to get a soft, apologetic, smile in response from his model. Isaac dips the brush into the yellow, to paint the way the light brightens up the profile of Scott, but soon changes his mind. Isaac dips his brush into the red and starts shading, the orange and the pink to paint the highlights. Without even realizing it he's painting how Scott makes him feel while painting the boy in front of him.

"Can I see now?" Scott whines in a way that makes Isaac's soul cry out but he remains nonchalant about it, hiding the shiver passing through him.

"No. Just wait a bit- stop squirming." He orders, flicking some paint in the boy's direction. He can't help but laugh when Scott flinches and makes a face. But Scott sobers up and takes the position again.

By the time Isaac is finished the sunlight has gone from yellow-high-noon to orange-you-glad-I-didn't-say-sundown and Scott looks like he's completely asleep. So Isaac bites his lip, contemplating the pros and cons of what he's about to do, before he gets up and inches over. Since they first saw spoke Scott has always been there; he's taken precious time out of his day to be with Isaac and make him feel important on days when he really couldn't find the good in anything. Scott, with his espresso eyes and sunshine smile, has shown Isaac just what it's like to find love and acceptance.

The two halves of himself are wrestling within him, even as he crouches down and presses his lips to Scott's; The lacrosse player's chin rests on the heal of his hand, fingers curled just under his lower lip an Isaac's chin brushes his knuckles when they kiss. A chaste kiss. When Isaac pulls back, a hairs breath, he sees that Scott is looking at him. His espresso coloured eyes are wide with shock but his lips are still pursed.

"Sorry." Isaac murmurs, unsure if his voice even left his lips. They're so close, so close that Isaac is sure that his heartbeat is loud enough to hear. Scott doesn't say anything. He simply blinks slowly.

"The painting is done." Isaac informs him, straightening up and feeling a bit dejected at Scott's silence. Stupid stupid, _"I just kissed- god, I'm so stupid!"_ The artist gets up, stepping away to get the painting. He stands in front of it, not wanting Scott to see it now. Lost in his thoughts, he almost doesn't see, or feel, the strong arms wrap around his waist; the strong hands turning him around and drawing him into the tan boy's chest. Though Isaac is a good head taller than Scott he still feels small and weak.

"I love it." Scott says as he draws Isaac in for a deeper kiss that is sweeter than Isaac anything Isaac has ever tasted; more loving than Isaac has ever felt, just more. And his heart let out a sigh, a puff of his soul, as he realized: I could fall in love with Scott McCall.


	6. 6 Sorry Father

A month of morning, coffee-kisses and hidden glances, stolen, across the room is a long time of happiness for Isaac. They never talk about it, neither one of them wanting to make it weird, so when their sitting at their table with the whole group and Isaac is running his foot up Scott's leg, in a way that makes the Captain cover his mouth with his hand and tense up, it just makes Isaac chuckle and he draws what he sees because it's just to beautiful not too. Scott shoots him a look and Isaac simply smirks, not realizing the whole table has gone silent and it's just the two of them having a wordless conversation.

Lydia clears her throat, making the Artist and the Captain jump.

"Are you, two, done?" She asks, making that i-know-your-dirty-little-secret face and Isaac blushes while Scott looks out the window defiantly. Allison looks confused and stiles look grossed out.

"W-what are you ordering?" He nudges his friend to the background noise of chatter picking back up again.

"What?"

"It's my turn to pay."

"Oh, right. I'll have what you're having."

Isaac nods and goes back to his drawing, choosing Lydia as his new model. She's gorgeous to say the least, the personified version of the worlds prettiest flower and beside her sits her best friend; Allison, looking like a raven, black hair contrasting against her pale skin. It's a dynamic that he is interested in trying to capture.

The a waitress comes by to take their orders, she asks Isaac if he's coming by her house tonight light he did before and he replies with a yes. Lea smiles her sweet smile and skips off to retrieve their foods; when Isaac looks back at Scott there's a questioning gaze in his eyes. He looks like he's annoyed.

"What?"

"...nothing."

Isaac shifts and sits up, furrowing his brow and confused by Scott's change in attitude, he leans in and cocks his head. Scott meets his gaze, steadily, silently communicating some form of distress that Isaac doesn't understand. Lea returns with plates and a tray of drinks and places them down in front of their respected foodies, she flashes Isaac a smile before giving him his muffin and disappearing into that abyss of waitressing nothingness.

He looks down at his muffin, watching the steam rise off of it, and on it is a whip cream smiley face. The artist blushes and eats the whip cream off with his finger but, when his eyes meet Scott's, again he sees that look of annoyance but Scott averts his gaze and picks at his muffin with disinterest. They continue eating while ignoring each other, they talk to the group, to Stiles and Lydia and Allison but not each other.

"Hey, shithead," Isaac says, barging into Scott's house and finding him in front of the tv, playing some video game Isaac is to distracted to marvel at. He's just got home from Lea's house and the work they got done was enough so that he can relax for the next week. Scott looks up at him but doesn't even really acknowledge him.

"What the hell has crawled up your ass and died?" He continues, forming a question to which he better get a damn good answer. Scott's been ignoring him for hours and he wants to know why.

"What do you mean?" Scott says and all it does is irk Isaac more.

"The hell do I mean. Why are you ignoring me?"

"I'm not."

"Jesus, Scott, talk to me. All you ever do is talk, so talk!"

"What's there to talk about?"

"Talk about why you haven't even looked at me since lunch."

Scott looks up at him and Isaac sees him pause the game, he stands and walks past the taller boy to head to the kitchen. He wordlessly grabs a bottle of water and drinks, forcing Isaac to stand there in growing anger and watch the way his throat moves as he's drinks which would be amazingly attractive if Isaac didn't want to punch him in the Adam's apple instead. After a while Scott puts the bottle down and screw the lid back on and he looks at Isaac like he doesn't know how to voice what he's thinking. He opens his mouth and Isaac's breath catches in his throat and Scott says:

"I got...jealous." He admits and drops his head. Isaac could almost laugh at the sheer simplicity of it. He thought he did something wrong, or Scott finally realized he isn't worth his time but no...Scott's just jealous. Wait, jealous of-

"Jealous of what?" And Scott gives him a look like he's a complete idiot

"Of Lea." And Isaac makes a face of confusion

"Why would you be jealous of Lea?"

"You told me you where at work." He mumbles.

"I was at work."

"You where at Lea's."

"Lea is my work."

"What?"

"Check your phone dumbass."

Isaac watches as the idiot reaches for his phone and checks the messages; he sees his face change as he comes across the picture of the unfinished painting. Scott looks up at him with apologetic big brown orbs and shakes his head.

"I'm sorry."

"I didn't tell you because I didn't think it mattered."

"It shouldn't have mattered. I just worry about you."

"Well don't, worry about me when I stop caring about you." He says and flicks Scott in the nose before coming in to his space and presses their foreheads together. Isaac smiles that genuine smile, the secret smile that's like Scott's own personal heaven and Scott responds with his own lopsided grin that Isaac loves to curve his lips to, that his own happiness uses as fuel. A kiss is shared between the two; one that's hesitant at first, like a breath before a yawn, but soon melts into a full exploration of the heavens that each boy offers to each other. They pull away after a minutes and gasp in the reality of their lives.

"Well okay then." Scott says breathlessly and Isaac gives a laugh that seems to make everything that much more.

"I can't stay for long," Isaac starts, reluctantly, "my Dad has to be picked up from the hospital."

"Did you read that letter?"

"Huh?"

"From the school."

"Oh...no. I threw it out." He mumbles and stands up straight, put off because Scott always does this. He always ruins it, now a days.

"Why?"

"Enough, Scott."

"Why?" He prods more and Isaac turns his back on Scott and walk towards the door.

"I can't. My dad needs me." He says to Scott's disappointed look. He doesn't understand, Isaac is all his old man has. He can't leave just because of some chance at being an artist.

"Isaac-"

"Don't. I gotta go."

"Right now?"

"Yea." He lies because he has a few minutes more but Isaac doesn't want to have to deal with those concerned glances, those looks that make him suspect that Scott knows far more than he's letting on.

"Isaac, please I-"

"See ya." He says and leaves.

Isaac spends the free minutes he has sitting in the parking lot of the hospital and then drives his dad home. He lays in bed and listens to his father cough and cough, even in his sleep he coughs. The constant coughing.

Scott doesn't understand why Isaac still does that, still shuts down and runs away from him. He just wants to grab the boy sometimes and shake him until he tells Scott everything. The other day, while Isaac was at Lea's, he went to Stiles' and spoke to the sherif about what they could do about Isaac but he said unless Isaac files a complaint, or whatever, himself then there was nothing they could do. That pissed him off because he knows Isaac won't sell-out his dad without a big enough push.

He sighs and goes back to the couch after Isaac leaves; the artist always has a way of leaving him breathless but with too much air all at the same time. Scott turns turns off pause on his game and starts playing again to try and take his mind off of it all. That's when the door opens and Stiles comes in with his eat shit grin and his mouth already running way ahead of everyone else.

"-Saw Isaac leave, what was he doing here? You two spend a hell of a lot of time together now, bro, it's like Princess Leah is coming in between Hans and chewie. I can't be havin' that man"

"What?"

"Hans solo...and Chewbacca? Hans the badass of the stars and his right hand man, his co-pilot? His wing man? His brother in arms and fur? Dude, you gotta watch Star Wars, for real." Stiles complains and plops down on the couch beside his friend but Scott is confused.

"I don't know anyone named Hans or Chewbacca..." And stiles gives him an incredulous look.

"You're Hans dick wad!" Stiles yells and flicks Scott in the ear.

"But my name is-"

"Don't, don't even man. You where the chosen one. I loved you." Stiles says with all the dramatics of an oscar winning death scene. Scott rolls his eyes as stiles reaches for a controller and restarts the xbox without even letting Scott save. He doesn't complain.

"So what was he doin' here anyway?" Stiles asks, going back to whatever his version of normal is.

"Just telling me about his job."

"Oh yea? What's his job?"

"He paints people, I guess."

The fall into a silence that Scott is suspicious of, that Scott is wary of, because stiles isn't silent.

"How long have you two been sexing each other up?"

"What?!" The controller clatters to the floor and Stiles pauses and looks at his friend.

"Please, how stupid do you think I am?- don't answer that-"

"We are just friends!"

"Friends who come out of a supply closet together? Yea, Danny asked me about that."

"We were talking?!"

"Talking about the gentle curve of his cock?"

"I haven't even seen it yet!"

"Yet!"

"I mean at all, or ever!"

"Yet!"

"Fuck you stiles!"

"I'd rather you go fuck Isaac."

"Oh my god!"

Scott is furiously blushing and gets up to grab himself a distraction, a bottle of beer and food. He stuffs his mouth and hides his face out of sheer embarrassment at being called out like this.

"Hey man," stiles starts "it's cool. No shame, no hate. Whatever floats your dick."

"He doesn't float my anything."

"Nah but he makes your batter come up to the plate don't he?"

"Stiles..." Scott warns and He holds his hand up in defence

"Aright, alright, I'll stop. Just stop pussy footing around okay?"

"What does that even mean?"

"Tell him before you lose him."

"Since when are you the love expert?"

"I got friends who are love experts."

"Who? Trolls?"

Threatening Isaac with the freezer is a more effective way of getting him to do something than just about anything; his dad has threatened him with the freezer when he saw Isaac kiss Scott by the mail box.

"You're fucked up enough, don't go bein' homo too." He had said after slamming Isaac's back into the wall. Luckily he wasn't drunk enough to resort to the freezer right off the bat. Isaac knew this was coming, or something like this at least; he's had to long of a run and it's been to happy. Isaac promises to break things off with Scott, to never see him again and go back to how things were before and then he decides to stay home today. He paces the perimeter of his closet sized room, the once-was-creme coloured carpet, trying to come up with a way to tell Scott and minimize the damage to them both.

Scott: where are you?

Scott: I'll bring you some soup if your sick.

Scott: Don't ignore me :(

Scott: :(

Scott: I'm coming over.

A knock on the door brings a sigh from his lips because of course ignoring Scott wasn't exactly the best idea but it was the only thing he could think of. More knocking resounds through the house and breaks his heart but instead of it stopping the door just opens and Scott's footsteps crack across the house.

"Isaac, I brought soup for you." He says, poking his head into Isaac's room with that bright eyed smile and a bag of delicious smelling chicken soup. Isaac could almost cry but he doesn't, he smiles sort of.

"Thanks." He says, voice sounding like that of a liar but he's not actually saying a lie...yet. Scott steps into his room, oblivious as ever, and places the soup on his desk before coming to sit beside him and placing a hand against his forehead.

"You don't feel warm, is your throat sore, what's wrong?" He asks and Isaac feels his eyes sting as he takes Scott's hand away from his head by the wrist and places it away from him. Isaac rubs the back of his neck in anxiousness as he tries to find the words to say:

"I can't see you anymore."

"What?" Scott's face falls like he's been kicked by someone he loves; like when Isaac is kicked by his dad. Isaac winces internally.

"Scott, it's not like I'm doing this because-"

"I don't understand."

"When do you ever...my dad has told me I can't see you."

"So?"

"If I do I get...Get in trouble."

Scott blinks slowly at him before the realization sets in, "he threatened you."

And Isaac doesn't answer.

"He threatened you!"

And Isaac remains silent.

"That- that- he can't stop us! I won't let him!"

"Stop us from what?" Isaac asks in a soft voice, Scott looks at him as if he's an idiot.

"What?"

"We aren't doing anything, we make out sometimes and...tease each other." He explains

"...and he won't stop us." Scott looks as though Isaac has just told him that Santa isn't real.

"What about this is worth keeping?!"

"All of it!"

"Why?!"

"Because I want you! I want you to tease me in school and kiss me by the mail box! I don't want him to take that away!"

"Well this isn't worth being locked in a freezer!" Isaac screams despite himself because, truth be told, he doesn't want to lose this. He wants this but Scott's doing no thing to make him feel better; he just feels worse, so he's angry. He let himself get close even when he knew it would get taken away.

Imagine telling a child that their puppy is dead, that's what Scott looks like. His brown eyes are big and getting more and more watery, his whole demeanour has changed and that's when he gets really angry. So angry that Isaac is sure he'll get smacked or something by him.

"Why don't you fucking tell someone, Isaac?" He yells and Isaac curls into himself and waits for the pain to come.

"Charge him! Go to the fucking cops, Isaac, please! He locks you in a goddamn freezer, he hits you, my walls shake when you get thrown into them. You don't think I notice the cuts and the bruises?! And when your piss drunk and I have to come get you! You think I can handle that!? You think I want you to go through that?!" The hits don't come, Scott just yells and yells while tears threaten to jump from his eyes and onto his cheeks.

"If you don't do something then I will!" He finishes, storming past Isaac and before Isaac can follow he closes the door.

"Scott!" Isaac screams, slamming his fists against the door but he can hear something being dragged in front of it. Something blocks the door and no matter how hard Isaac fights he can't open it.

He hears his dad's truck pull up in the driveway.

By the time Isaac gets out of his window and scrambles to the front door his dad is already inside and Scott gives him a low-shouldered-lacrosse-style tackle. Isaac rushes up to his father, who looks like he's seeing red, and puts himself between Scott and the older man. His dad's hands grab his shirt and easily toss him to the side before going for Scott again and for the first time in his life Isaac pushes his dad away. He pushes his dad so hard that he stumbles back and slams into there wall, Isaac sees the breath get knocks out of him and the guilt drops like a rock.

"Dad!" He moves to run to his father but is held back by Scott, the captain keeps him away and wrestles him out of the house.

"dad! Dad I'm sorry!" He screams before being pushed onto the lawn and watching Scott pull out his phone. Isaac darts back into the house, despite Scott's protests, and pulls his half conscious dad into his lap.

"Dad, dad, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He says, holding back the tears with all he can muster and holds his father's head in his lap. He hunches over his dad and grips his shirt, trying to bury his face in his father's chest while spilling apologies like the tears waiting to flow. His father coughs, twice before lacing his fingers in Isaac's hair and holding him in place, he mumbles something that Isaac doesn't catch and he doesn't bother asking to repeat because it isn't matter. His dad is holding him, actually holding him, and he starts crying.

It's the sherif who pulls him off, the sherif who drags him outside and gives him to Scott and Melissa, who lifts up his dad and takes him away; all the while Isaac fights to get to his father but it's not the man who held him, it's the man who his father became. He looks at Isaac with steel blue eyes and nothing but hate and it stops Isaac in his tracks.


End file.
